


The Bad Outweighs The Good

by treacletarts



Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, Friendship, Gen, Law School, Post-Canon, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-16
Updated: 2020-08-16
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:47:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25932343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/treacletarts/pseuds/treacletarts
Summary: Laurel thinks about calling the remaining members of the K5.VERY spoiler filled for the whole show.Disclaimer:I don’t own any of the characters or plot of How to Get Away with Murder. This is simply for entertainment.
Relationships: Laurel Castillo & Annalise Keating, Laurel Castillo & Connor Walsh, Laurel Castillo & Michaela Pratt, Laurel Castillo/Wes Gibbins, Oliver Hampton/Connor Walsh
Comments: 2
Kudos: 35





	The Bad Outweighs The Good

Laurel softly rocked Christopher in her arms, a small smile emerging as she looked down at his chubby face and messy curls. He was going to look so much like his father when he grew up. She already knew it. So much had happened within the last 3 years, the last 3 months, the last 3 weeks… and the last 3 hours. Laurel had had no idea what she was in for when she signed up to law school. She thought she would get a degree, a stable job and relative peace in her life. Gain independence, be loved and not have to associate with her twisted father. What she really got was: Death. Trauma. Crime. Betrayal. Murder. Needless to say, it was a lot more than she had bargained for. 

Laurel carefully set Christopher on the bed. He made a slight gurgling sound, which melted her heart every time. They were staying in a hotel for a while. It wasn’t safe to be anywhere else. 

_ Boom boom. Screams, panic, terror. People ducking and shielding and running. Frank. Bonnie. Christopher’s innocent little face. Frantically pulling the door closed and yelling: ‘Drive! DRIVE RIGHT NOW!’ Not looking back to check on Connor or Oliver or Michaela or Annalise or Bonnie or Frank… _

She snapped out of it. Opening her eyes, Laurel realised that tears had silently crept down her cheeks. She took a big, shuddering breath, wiped her eyes on her sleeve (mascara and makeup wiping off in the process), and slumped into the small armchair next to the bed. She ruffled through her bag, searching for her phone. Her eyes caught a glimpse of the corner of a ripped photograph. Her breath hitched in her throat. She took the torn, completely tattered photo out. It was of the K5, along with Annalise, Bonnie and Frank. They were once a team. Quite a fragmented team, at that, but still a team. It was taken after a particularly successful case, very early on. They were standing in front of the grand courtroom building, with genuine pride and happiness radiating off them. Well, Connor looked rather smug, but that was nothing new. Laurel had printed that photo when she went into hiding, to at least remember the group. They had been through a lot together. The understatement of the century, but still. Even though they were irritating and messy and morally unsound at times, so was she. Whether she liked it or not, these people knew the very worst side of her. And she knew theirs. And while it did not sound nice to an outsider, Laurel knew she had once loved these people. 

Laurel let herself remember, let the good memories soak in. All of it. Their petty competition for Annalise’s approval. Researching and working until 4am, with ample amounts of caffeine as fuel. Falling asleep on couches and the floor in Annalise’s house. Going to bars and clubs on impulse. And later on, coming home to an animated, never boring household, along with Christopher and an assortment of baked goods. 

She tried to find her phone again, as more memories flooded into her mind. Wes’ goofy smile. Connor’s words always dripping with sarcasm. Oliver’s much needed optimism. Asher’s terrible, terrible jokes (but delicious pastries). Michaela’s admittedly annoying determination and ambition but incredibly fast wit. Annalise and Bonnie never ceasing to protect them. She even thought about Frank’s tough love, though she quickly moved on. To be frank, she never wanted to think about him ever again. 

Laurel finally found her phone in the depths of her bag and dug it out. It was a burner phone that she got when she went off the grid, though it still worked practically: it had all the info and contacts that she transferred onto it. She had the urge to call someone, anyone. Connor. Oliver. Michaela, despite her selfish FBI deal. Even Annalise. Just to check up on them, hear their voices. She realised with a jolt that she wouldn’t be able to contact Connor. That he was going to jail. Her heart broke in that moment. He had just gotten married to the love of his life. He had tried to make his life better. Out of everyone, Connor was the one that least deserved to go. He had been the most earnest and  _ good _ in the end. She knew she could still call Oliver and be able to get hold of Connor somehow. She wanted a chance to speak to him or anyone, just so that wouldn’t feel so alone.

But so many unwanted memories also came flickering back. Sam’s dead body. The snapping, the crunching of bone. The never ending interrogations. The blood. The fear. Wes. Laurel shook her head, trying to ignore the bad and relish in only the good. But she couldn’t. Calling now would just open a wound that all of them wanted desperately to heal. Perhaps this was for the best. So she set the phone down, tucked the photograph into her purse (she would figure out what to do with it later), and lovingly looked at Christopher, the only thing she had left. 

She whispered: “Te amo, preciosa.”


End file.
